


Honor Among Thieves?

by RebeccaM_30, ZoneRobotnik



Series: Unexpected Plot Twist [17]
Category: Gravity Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-16 07:44:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19313728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebeccaM_30/pseuds/RebeccaM_30, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoneRobotnik/pseuds/ZoneRobotnik
Summary: Stan's bids climb ever higher, and Fiddleford makes a tough decision.





	Honor Among Thieves?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. Sorry this one took a while, but my depression got the better of me and all I wanted to do for the past few days was sleep. I'm feeling better now, so on with the show.

The bids went higher and higher, but Stan didn't care. All he knew was that, whoever bought him, he already had one name on the fight-list. No, the kill-list. He hoped Ford was alright, and wished he had a way to contact him. This wasn't the auction's fault, though. It was his coach's. They hadn't been kidnapped at random, they had been _targeted_! And that only make him all the more furious.

The bag flew off the stand in pieces and he wiped sweat from his brow before he looked at the camera. "I need a new one!"

It was nearly an hour later when he heard the locks on the door click. The same man from before came in, dragging a new bag. "I had a feeling that piece of shit wouldn't hold up to someone like you. You might be familiar with this one. I paid a visit to a 'mutual friend' of ours for it."

He looked at it and his eyes widened. That was the same one he used in his class. He took it and silently hooked it up, then hit it as hard as it could. Good. This one would hold up longer. He set to work on beating it again and again, until he needed to take a break and get some water from the pitcher that had been brought into him. He ignored the glass next to it and drank straight from the pitcher before setting it down and going back to punching the bag.

"How much longer is this auction?" He asked the man, pausing for breath.

"Just under a day. They usually run forty eight hours." He looked at the mess of sand and canvas that was the old bag. "I'd hate to see what a real opponent of yours would look like."

"You'll find out, when that ol' coach of mine enters the ring." Stan said, wiping sweat from his brow before he continued to punch.

"You know that's unlikely. Even if you weren't pissed at him, you'd kill an old man like that. You're probably getting hungry and it's near lunchtime anyway. The kitchen can make almost anything."

 "If I don't get to kill him for what he's done, then what's the fucking point." Stan huffed. "I'm good with anything. Surprise me, I guess." He walked over to pick up a towel that's been brought for him and started to wipe himself off.

"Very well. Oh, just to let you know, you have a few of the female fight coordinators interested in you. There's a rather intense bidding war between two of them going on."

 Stan laughed. "The ladies like what they see?" He flexed his muscles and blew a kiss to the camera.

Frank laughed, deciding to leave out the part about being a possible 'breeder'. He looked at the wrecked bag again. _"If he does, his stud fees are going to be astronomical,"_  he thought. "I'll see what I can get for you."

He left the room, passing by Gibson's office. Gibson pointed to his laptop and gave the man a thumbs up. "How's it going with those two ladies? Still fighting?"

Gibson laughed. "Ah haven' seen girls fight over a guy this much since mah brother was young!"

"Your brother was a ladies man, huh?"

"Aw, yes." Gibson nodded, sighing wistfully. "Ah never had much luck mahself."

_'Must be the nose,'_ Frank thought. "Well, shows what they know. You're rich and your brother's still on your family's farm with, what, six kids now?"

Gibson laughed. "Tha's true, but Ah wouldn't mind some company o' mah own."

"Yeah, I know the feeling. After what happened with Amanda, Mother pretty much kept me on a tight leash. I'm surprised I didn't turn into the next Ed Gein."

"Anyways, family aside, how's Marcus?"

"Still mumbling in Russian. I didn't understand most of it, but I think he thinks Cipher can see through that creepy Illuminati triangle thing. He won't cover it up, though."

Gibson frowned. "Cipher's always been creepy, but d'ya think he put a hidden camera in 'im?"

"It would definitely explain why he thinks that. I don't understand why he won't cover it up." Frank shuddered. "It was like something out of a Stephen King movie. I walked in and he's just sitting there, tracing his fingers over the lines. He's got all these pictures drawn of this...creature he claims Cipher turned in to."

"Ah haven' seen  _those_ yet..."

"I don't know what all that freaky bastard did to him, but...I think Marcus may be gone. He's so deep inside his own head, he may never be the same."

"If only Ah could get back at that uppity brat fer this..."

"Believe me, I've been trying to find a loophole in his little deal. But, he'll no doubt try to get Rob removed from the register...Wait! That's it! He used the Authority against you, use it against him!"

"How?" Gibson huffed. "Accordin' ta them, 'e was within 'is rights ta torture an intruder."

"Rob is technically his now, but an official 'sale' was never made. According to the Laws, you still own him. We can't demand him back back, however, you can demand what he 'owes' you. He legally can't be removed from the register until he pays his debt to you."

"'At's true...no official sale was made. An' Ah won't accept just  any price from him."

"Let's see...fifteen years of room and board, clothing, food...I'd say he owes, at minimum, eight hundred thousand."

Gibson smirked. "Ah'll give 'im a chance ta make tha sale 'fore Ah bring tha Authority inta it." He picked up the phone and dialed Cipher's number. It picked up after a few rings.

"Gibby. I didn't expect to hear from you again," Cipher said in that annoyingly pleasant tone. "Do we have further business?"

"Yea, we do."

"What?"

"Ya owe me fer Robbie, 'at's 'what'."

"I owe YOU? Rob was YOUR payment to ME for the inconvenience of sending your dog to break into my home and try to kidnap my guest! Not to mention the damage to the window he cut a hole into to open it. Add that to the usual amount owed for emotional distress and, well, hm, I think Robbie is a  _bargain price_."

"Excuse me?"

"You were planning to use that to get him back, weren't you? You humans, so damn predictable. But, let's not forget who's on  _thin_ _ice_ for breaking a Rule and attacking a fellow Member's guest and breaking into their home. Everything I have done is within the Laws. I gave Robbie back when you asked for him, I politely asked your nephew over instead of breaking into  _your_ home and kidnapping him. And returned him when he was ready and I protected my home and guest when you sent your dog to attack me for allowing Robbie's friend to stay here. And, if you recall, the Laws allow torturing intruders, so...," He cackled a bit. "Nice try, wise guy."

Gibson gripped the phone tightly. "You...owe...me. The Laws..."

"I owe you  _nothing_ ," Cipher snapped. "I just  _told_ you that I did  _nothing_ against the Laws. You, however, owe ME and I will let the  _rest_ of what you owe  _slide_ if you never EVER approach Robbie AGAIN."

Gibson slammed the phone down. "DAMN HIM!"

"Let me guess," Frank sighed. "The slippery snake found a way out of that too?"

"He said that Ah owed him, an' Robbie was mah payment fer sendin' Marcus." Gibson groaned and rubbed his temples. "Unfortunately, he's right. He hasn' broken any Laws, and Ah'm on thin ice fer sendin' Marcus t'attack his guest."

"Damn. Just let me go over and put a bullet between his eyes. I can claim I did it on my own. Or I can hire somebody."

"Ah'd still get in trouble fer it fer not stoppin' ya. Ah've done some research on 'im, though, an' Ah found out...he's  _not_ th' only Bill Cipher. Ah'd say it's a family name, but the previous Cipher looks nothin' like 'im." He switched over to an internet browser. "It's also apparently some legend in a backwater town. Some god o' chaos or somethin'. This is that guy's likeness. Ah don' know if he's tellin' the truth 'bout 'im not bein' human or if 'is parents were just nuts. Either way,  _he_ sure seems ta think 'e's not human."

"He does have a bit of a God complex. Could just be one of those spoiled rotten only children. You know, the kind their parents think can do no wrong?" Frank looked at the picture on the screen. "Distant relative?"

Gibson showed him another image. "What about this one? This one ain't even tha same race!" Gibson sighed heavily and switched over to the auction again. "Keep th' battles ta th' auctionhouse, let yer money do th' fighin'. Ah fucked up..."

_"Hey, can I get some more water?_ Stan's voice came through the computer's speakers.  _"Bit thirsty."_

"What's he up to now?" Frank asked.

"A lot more than 'is brother got meh, tha's fer sure. It jus' went up ag'in."

"Could be a record sale." Frank left the office and grabbed a few water bottles from the refrigerator before heading to Stan's room. "Here ya go, kid."

Stan reached out and took them, hungrily downing one in a few gulps before putting the others aside and sitting on his bed, wiping the sweat from his body. "Phew. Could use a shower after that."

"I could arrange that." He secretly wished they could sneak a camera in the shower room. If they could, the lady coordinators would lose their minds. "No sense in you being filthy when you meet your buyer. Especially since it looks like it's going to be one of the ladies."

"Really? Well, hey, slip a camera in there. Let 'em see the goods." Stan winked at the camera.

Frank laughed. "I like you kid. Call me when you're twenty-one and I'll buy you a beer. But, no. We will give you some privacy."

"Then I guess whoever gets me'll be surprised. Lead the way."

"Alright. Come with me." He led Stan to a locker room style shower. "You should find soap and shampoo in there. Just knock on the door when you're done."

 

* * *

Fiddleford groaned as he woke up. His head hurt and he felt slightly nauseated. He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced him back down. 

"Easy, Fiddleferd. Ya been sick fer a while. Yer fever finally broke last night," Gibson said, a worried expression on his face.

"Fever...?"

"Yea. Ya must've caught some kinda bug on tha train. Ya got pretty sick soon after ya got here. Had meh worried fer a while."

"Oh...Ah got sick?" He didn't remember being sick. He remembered meeting someone, and seeing something...something horrifying. "Uhm, can Ah have mah phone? Ah wan' call mah friend Stanferd, tell 'im Ah'm back in town an' can hang out."

"There's uh problem, there. Ya nearly fell down tha stairs when ya passed out. Yer phone...wasn' so lucky. It's pretty much destroyed."

"Then, can Ah use yers?"

"Ah don' think 'at's a good idea right now. Ya need yer rest." Gibson stood and started to leave the room. "Ah'll let the kitchen know her awake. Think ya can manage some toast or crackers?"

"Ah NEED ta talk ta 'im," Fiddleford said, firmly. "Ah had a nightmare he was kidnapped an' bein' sold at an auction! Ah NEED ta know he's okay!"

"Ya can call in tha mornin'. Ya jus' woke up from a two day fever. Ya need ta rest! Ah'm sure yer friend's fine. It was jus' a bad dream."

Fiddleford got up and glared at him. "Ah can' trust ya sayin' 'at, because in mah nightmare, it was YOU that kidnapped him!"

Gibson laughed. "'At right there should tell ya it was jus' a bad dream. Ah ain't no saint, but there's things Ah jus' wouldn' do."

"Then ease mah fears and assure meh it's a bad dream by lettin' meh talk ta Standferd!"

"Ah said ya can call in tha mornin'. 'At's mah final word on tha matter." He walked out the door, locking it behind him. "Boy's stubborn as an ol' mule...jus' like 'is Pa."

Fiddleford frowned at the door and then looked at his computer. "If on'y it  _was_ a bad dream. Ah have ta get back t'Cipher. Which means, I gotta play th' fool."


End file.
